


Lies We Tell Each Other

by foldingcranes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021 (Supernatural), Episode: s05e01 Sympathy for the Devil, Episode: s05e03 Free to Be You and Me, Episode: s05e04 The End, Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pining, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Virgin Castiel (Supernatural), Winged Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldingcranes/pseuds/foldingcranes
Summary: This is what you do best, Dean thought, grief stuck beneath his heart like a knife, piercing skin and muscle. A wreckage of longing and resentment, packaged in the form of Cas' tired blue eyes, and the grim set of his mouth.This is what you do best: you take and you leave, and you'll do it all over again.(Dean falls into bed with Castiel and then, when no one's looking, he falls in love with him.)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 119
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2021





	Lies We Tell Each Other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zimx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimx/gifts).



> Writing this fic for Xim was a delight! I fell in love with their art from the moment I saw it at art claims, and developing a Season 5 AU for their piece was a really fun challenge, so. I hope you like it, Xim, it was a pleasure working with such a wonderful artist!!!
> 
> Many thanks to @stuffy_jj, as always, for her excellent brainstorming skills and beta reading work, and for always supporting me in my quest of writing more deancas, hehe.
> 
> You can admire Xim's wonderful art in [this post](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924688).

**I**

Chuck had dug out a tooth from his messy hair. A damn tooth, once pristine-white under all the blood, because Cas was an angel beneath the dirt and grit, always immaculate and clean, like he’d been carved out of marble. From the moment they’d met in that old barn almost a year ago, black wings unfolded and all, Cas had seemed to be completely untouchable.

And now, he was gone, splattered all across Chuck’s living room, a red stain among the wreckage. The stupid asshole was gone, and Dean still hadn’t figured out what they _were_. Had they been friends? Had he still been an obligation to Cas, his mission?

Dean tried to remember the last thing he said to Cas, only to come up empty-handed.

“Cas, you stupid bastard,” was the only thing that seemed to come out of his mouth and Dean immediately felt guilty for that. Cas had deserved more than that, he deserved more than to go out in one big, sacrificial play. He deserved more than making the mistake of dragging Dean’s ass out of hell and then sticking his neck out for him.

Later, when Cas showed up out of nowhere for the sole purpose of saving their asses from getting kicked by Zachariah only to leave immediately after, Dean pretended that he didn’t have to crush a wave of longing with the weight of his own anger.

**II**

It was almost midnight by the time they returned to the shitty motel room Dean had booked earlier, and the smell of the sleazy strip club was just starting to dissipate from Dean's nose. He switched on the light, and the light bulb flickered twice before dying, drowning the room in darkness.

“Well,” Dean sighed, walking straight towards his bed and laying on it, staring at the cracked ceiling. “This is it, man. Last night on Earth.”

“Are you disappointed that you didn’t accomplish your mission?” Cas carefully sat only inches away from him, but Dean didn’t have the energy to give him another lecture about personal space. Still, his stomach fluttered strangely when their thighs touched, and Dean felt _something_ twist and turn inside him.

“How was I supposed to know that you’d traumatize that poor stripper?” Dean huffed, not even making an effort to move away from Cas.

“I believe it was her father who actually traumatized her, Dean.”

“God,” Dean rolled his eyes, turning on the bed to look at Cas. “No wonder you’re going to die a virgin, what…” _What a fucking waste_ , Dean thought, before he could control himself. In the dark, he could trace the line of Cas’ strong shoulders, the shape of his long, elegant nose and his strong, masculine jaw.

“Y’know…” Dean started, resting his head on his hand, heart beating way too fast to be normal. “I could help you. With the virgin thing.”

Cas frowned, visibly confused, and Dean wanted to slap himself. “How?”

There had always been something between the two of them, a buzzing that threatened to swallow Dean down. He refused to recognize it as something merely more than a strong desire to fuck someone hot.

“C’mere,” he patted the space next to him, the ugly comforter’s design still visible in the dark. Cas crawled to him across the bed, looking as ridiculous as Dean could have ever imagined it when thinking about this situation. He boxed Dean in, getting himself comfortable between Dean’s legs and looking lost. Dean took mercy on him, patting his back and rubbing circles across it. “It’s okay,” Dean soothed. “I’ve got you, big guy.”

“What do I do?” Cas didn’t have time to ask any deeper questions before Dean dragged him into a slow, sweet kiss. Cas kissed back clumsily, starting out hesitant and tepid, mimicking most of what Dean did, until he grew hungrier, firmer. He parted Dean’s lips with his tongue, proving to be the quickest student Dean had ever had.

They broke the kiss only to get some air, Cas leaning back when Dean started to tug at his clothes to get him to remove them. He unbuttoned Cas’ shirt and undid his tie, letting them fall off the edge of the bed, ignoring Cas’ answering frown. He could have encouraged Cas to undress quickly and without effort by using his grace, but he didn’t feel like asking. Dean wanted to unwrap him like a hot present.

He pulled Cas on top of him again and ran his hands up and down Cas’ strong back, stopping right below his shoulder blades… something felt _warm_ there. Dean rubbed the same exact spot a couple of times until Cas was groaning, his mouth buried against Dean’s neck, and then his terrifyingly black wings were flickering to life only to disappear a few seconds later, just like the room’s light bulb earlier. But it was enough for Dean to think about the shape of them and the sheer power they radiated.

“Dean,” Cas said, breaking the sudden silence, black wings still flickering before Dean’s eyes. “Show me how to please you.”

“Shit, Cas,” Dean breathed, dick immediately perking up. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

Too embarrassed to say anything else, Dean made more room for Cas between his legs, then put a hand on his chin to give him another slow, sweet kiss. “We’re going to need lube; I keep a bottle in my duffel. C’mon, move it,” he grumbled, shoving Cas aside for a moment, just to go in search of the supplies.

When Dean got back on the bed, a bottle of Astroglide in hand, Cas was waiting for him completely naked, his strong body on display, broad shoulders and thick thighs, strong biceps, and firm stomach. Dean felt like a slouch in comparison and self-consciously sat in front of Cas, fumbling his way into removing his pants and underwear. As soon as he joined the naked party, Cas’ hungry gaze was on him, a hand reaching for Dean, finally resting on his thighs. Dean trembled, unable to hide his own eagerness, leaning against the pillows and spreading his legs. He opened the bottle and slicked up his fingers, eyes fixed on Cas the entire time.

“Pay attention, bud, I’m going to show you what you wanted,” Dean grinned, probably looking cockier than he felt. Cas leaned closer, looking completely interested when Dean circled his own fingers around his hole, teasing himself until he was pushing inside. He started fucking himself at a slow pace and moaned once he managed to curl up his fingers the right way. “Cas,” Dean stuttered, eyes closed and enjoying the glide of his own touch against his prostate. “I’m opening myself for you.”

Cas’ nostrils flared; his thumb drawing circles on Dean’s left thigh. “Do you enjoy this?”

Dean nodded, chewing at his bottom lip, legs starting to shake. “Yeah—fuck, I love it—this is called prep, it’s… _fun_ ,” he pulled out, fighting a full-body shudder, then grabbed the hand Cas was using to pet his thigh. “You wanna put your fingers in me?”

Cas’ fingers were thicker, and despite his curiosity and inexperience, he eagerly pushed two into Dean, fucking him with them he eagerly pushed two into Dean, fucking him with them until Dean was practically begging him for more. When Cas _finally_ found his prostate, Dean knew it was about time to get to the main act. He gently guided Cas’ hand away from him, then pushed him back so he was resting on his back in the middle of the bed. Dean threw a leg over him to straddle him, heart picking up when the head of Cas’ cock nestled between his ass cheeks.

“I’m going to ride you,” Dean mumbled, putting his hands on top of Cas’ chest. “’That okay?”

Cas nodded, eyes darker than ever, and Dean reached behind him to grab Cas’ cock so he could slowly guide him inside. Dean sank onto him with a low groan, going still the moment Cas bottomed out. He was thicker than he had predicted, and there was a bitch of a stretch, but Dean loved it.

The world was going to end tomorrow and he wanted to go out with something that reminded him of a good time. Soon, the only sounds in the room were the slap of skin, Cas’ low panting, and Dean’s loud, ridiculous moans. Cas gripped him by the hips and started driving into him, harder and faster, until Dean could barely hold on for the ride. Cas sat up, and Dean held onto him, throwing his arms around Cas’ shoulders until his thighs were quivering and he was coming, cock rubbing insistently against Cas’ firm belly.

Cas followed soon after, spilling hot and fast inside of Dean, and they both fell on the bed, arms and legs tangled together. Letting go of his embarrassment and personal hang-ups, Dean snuggled up close and drifted into sleep, arms tightly wrapped until Cas, forgetting the dread of the impending apocalypse.

He woke up the next day to cold sheets, and to the world still turning.

Cas was gone, probably before morning even came, and Dean pretended to shrug it off and push it down into the mental box of things that were too unnerving to look at.

**III**

The thing about the end of the world was that Dean understood why his future self was such an annoying bitch. Sam was gone, trapped in Lucifer’s clutches, probably lost forever. Dean had failed his most important job: to protect his brother at all costs. He had crumpled down the weight of his own failure and pulled away from everyone, everything.

Still, there was a lingering connection between him and this human Castiel that forced Dean to examine some unwanted shit about himself. He sat there, on the floor of Castiel’s cramped and stinky cabin, waving away the smell of weed, wondering who pulled away first. It didn’t really matter: they were already broken.

Everyone at the camp eyed him with different levels of distrust, so Castiel was the only one who offered to shelter him for the night. Personally, Dean thought that the idea was a fucking nightmare, but he was too anxious to feel alone, and he wanted to see… more. To learn more about a Cas that was so painfully human that he had adopted humanity’s favorite destructive coping mechanisms: alcohol, drugs, and sex.

Cas sat right next to him on the floor, leaning against the wall, blowing away smoke from the huge joint perched in his fingers. Dean wanted to ask _what happened to you_ and _where was I when you fell_ but nothing came out of his mouth, except for—

“Did it hurt?” Dean asked, like a damn idiot. In a different context, that question could have been a pathetically cheesy pick-up line. Cas seemed to take a moment to think about it, before throwing back his head with his eyes closed.

“Yes,” Cas stayed quiet after that, and Dean thought that he had upset him, but then Cas shot him a too-wide, glassy-eyed smile. “Excruciatingly so. It felt like severing one of my own limbs and then suffering an infection. It’s how my addiction to opioids started.”

“Where…” Dean turned to look at Cas fully, trying not to think too hard about Cas using drugs to stop feeling in _pain_. “Does it still hurt?”

Cas nodded.

“Where?”

“My back.”

“Really?”

Then, gently, Castiel put a hand on his right shoulder and held Dean’s eyes for a short, quiet moment. “I used to have wings. When I lost my grace and became human, I lost that part of myself, Dean. I was no longer complete, I had become…”

 _Broken_.

“Vulnerable. Human,” Castiel ended. “I know what I signed for.”

“You’re freaking destroying yourself, Cas.”

Cas smiled at him. It wasn’t pretty. The corners of his lips were downturned, the lines around his mouth looking starker than ever.

“I’m already destroyed, Dean.”

The moment Dean got out of Zachariah’s sick apocalyptic fantasy; Dean stumbled into Cas’ arms as soon as he was able to. “Never change, buddy.”

Cas’ hazy eyes haunted Dean for days.

**IV**

He had been hollowed out, made of nothing but hubris anymore, and Pestilence was right about him: there was nothing inside of Dean, there was nothing more than the severe absence of things. The absence of control, the absence of hope, the absence, _the absence_ —

Fucking asshole had only given Dean more proof that he had always been fundamentally broken. But seeing Cas visibly slumped and defeated after such a shitty experience gave him the necessary fuel to draw him out of a possible spiral of _I should have been better._ Cas hadn’t been taking the fact that he had been depowered very well, and if there was something that Dean could understand better than anyone, it was self-loathing.

The ghost of that human Cas from 2014 hung right above Dean’s head, threatening to resurface, a cautionary tale warning Dean of what could happen if he turned his back on Cas in this moment. Uneasy, Dean walked out of Bobby’s house and into his yard and sat down next to Cas in the back of a truck. Sam had told him earlier that Cas had been sitting there for more than an hour, just looking at the night sky.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean said, “still beating yourself up?”

Cas frowned at Dean.

“I’m not beating myself up,” Cas grumbled, air quotes and all. At least he was still himself.

“Sure,” Dean said lightly, “that’s why you’ve been out here moping. Alone.”

“I’m not moping.”

“I know moping when I see it, buddy.”

“This is bigger than that, Dean,” Cas snapped, officially shutting him up. “You have-- you have no idea how powerless I’ve felt. How useless. The world could end tomorrow and there’s very little I can do to prevent it.”

“Cas…” Dean sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, man. You’re not useless, we’re all doing what we can here. Hell, Sam even signed up for his own death sentence and is getting ready to wrap himself like a present for Satan.”

“You and your brother have so much to lose, Dean,” Cas said, looking mournful and miserable, and Dean just felt the weird impulse to hug him. To soothe him out of his worries.

“I can’t protect you.”

“We’ll do this as a team, Cas.”

“You don’t get it,” Cas got up, abandoning his place to stand in front of Dean. He concentrated long enough to—to display his wings to Dean, drawing a gasp out of him: Cas’ black wings no longer looked solid and strong, and they seemed to be missing a couple of feathers in some places. They were still beautiful and cool as fuck, but they looked as if they would vanish completely at any moment.

Uncomfortable, Dean opened his big damn mouth. “You show those to any asshole?”

Cas’ wings flickered briefly, and he shook his head. “I’ve only shown them to you. Better said: you’re the only one who can see them.”

“Why?”

Cas didn’t answer at first, but he reached for Dean’s shoulder. Gently, he pulled down his flannel and pushed up his t-shirt’s sleeve, uncovering the handprint on Dean’s shoulder. “I left my brand on you. When I pulled you out of hell—I had to give you a small part of myself in order to carry you out with me. A very small part of my grace lives and breathes in you, connecting us.”

Dean’s heart beat faster, and his pulse picked up as Cas continued to talk. "This is what's left, Dean, of my grace. Of my ability to help you and Sam. I'm fading so quickly, and when it's gone, I'll just... I'll be human. I don't regret what I'm doing, I only regret that I won't be able to do more"

“That’s why—that’s why I can see your wings,” Dean gulped, too overcome with feeling to come up with anything more clever. He snapped out of it once he noticed that Cas’ face was still marred with misery, and he grabbed him by the arms. “Cas—listen to me, okay? We’ll find a way to fix this, we’ll get you as good as new, yeah, but. This doesn’t mean you’re useless—you’d never be useless, buddy. Way too much of a badass.”

Dean smiled a half-grin, knowing he took the coward’s way out. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way his chest squeezed when looking at Cas’ sadness, he didn’t want to examine the flutter in his stomach every time Cas looked at him.

And yet, Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s and pressed their lips together in a light, short-lived kiss. “Dean,” Cas whispered, sounding awed as if Dean were worthy of any wonder or admiration. “Dean,” he said again, more urgently, before they were desperately kissing, Dean secretly feeling like an idiot for giving it up so easily.

Cas took off his trench coat and laid him across the back of the pickup truck, then cornered Dean against it until he was on his back, laying on top of the thing. Cas kept frantically calling his name, between sloppy kisses and clumsy fumbling. He sucked a bruise on Dean’s neck (like a _brand_ ) and unzipped his jeans.

“Fucking he-- _Cas_ …” Dean groaned, throwing his head back once Cas got one of his giant paws on his cock. It was too dry, and the angle was a bit uncomfortable, but Cas was _touching_ him. “Fuck, okay, okay. C’mere, on top of me—yeah, like that. Let me unzip your pants.”

Clumsily, he got Cas’ cock out of his pants, taking a moment to admire the bead of precome on the tip, spreading it with his thumb all over the rest of his cock. Cas hung his head low, moaning and rolling his hips, arms shaking with the effort to keep him up.

“I don’t have any lube,” Dean whined, stroking up and down Cas’ gorgeous dick, watching as Cas’ shook under his touch, almost enraptured.

“I don’t care.”

Dean snorted. “Someone’s horny.”

_“Dean.”_

He couldn’t ignore his name being spoken like a command. “Come closer, that’s it. Just like that,” Dean soothed, finally getting comfortable enough to make a fist around his and Cas’ dicks. They rutted together, trading open, wet-mouthed kisses until Cas stopped fucking Dean’s fist to come all over his stomach. He wrapped his own fingers around Dean’s erection, right after coming, and stroked Dean until he came with a soft whine, body going boneless underneath Cas.

“Well,” Dean smiled, still trying to recover his breath. “That was something else.”

“Indeed,” Cas blinked. He looked like he was a bit sleepy, something that felt really rare to think about. Still, Dean snuggled up to him, laying his head on top of Cas’ chest, drawing comfort from his steady heartbeat and thinking that he could get –maybe– used to this.

“C’mon, move it,” Dean pat Cas’ chest, once his arm started to fall asleep. “Let’s move this to a real bed.”

Sounding grouchier than successfully fucked out, Cas let himself be dragged back to Bobby’s house and even crawled into bed with Dean back in the guest room. He dozed off while Dean stared at him, marveling at how vulnerable and human Cas looked, how warm and lax his body felt next to him.

Dean fell asleep to the familiar, but rare comfort of arms around him.

When he opened his eyes in the morning, Cas was gone.

**V**

Sam was gone. The asshole had had the nerve to tell Dean to go and live a normal life, but he was _gone_. Sam was the one with a shot at normal, Dean was just some guy with a lot of fucked up shit in the head.

He doesn’t know for how long he kneeled after Sam jumped. Hours, maybe? Dean didn’t really care. Time had become a concept that escaped him completely.

He only snapped out of it when Cas laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Dean, it’s time.”

“Cas,” Dean croaked, voice hoarse and chest tight. A chill ran down his spine and his vision went blurry. He was teetering on the edge of panic, and it didn’t seem like Cas had a chance to pull him away from it. “Cas, I can’t do it. I can’t do it. Not like this. Fuck.”

Cas pulled him into his arms, ignoring Dean’s incoherent babbling to help him get his shit together. For a moment, it seemed to work, and he laid his head on Cas’ shoulder, trying to pretend that he wasn’t living his very own worst nightmare. Suddenly, the world was moving way too fast around him, and he was too dizzy to be on his feet. He fell on his knees, puking on some idiot’s lawn, gagging until his eyes were watering again.

Two fingers gently touched his temple and Dean felt the soothing touch of grace coursing through his body. He looked up to thank Cas, only to stare in horror at the house in front of him.

It was Lisa’s.

“No…” Dean croaked, turning to look at Cas. He was standing next to him, his wide, dark wings were back to normal, and he looked at him with sorrowful eyes that made Dean want to puke again. “Cas, don’t.”

“I need to go, Dean,” Cas said, “I have a duty to fulfill, and Heaven is calling for me.”

“So, what,” Dean sneered, standing up on shaking legs. “You’re all powered up again, so you’re back to doing their bidding?”

 _This is what you do best_ , Dean thought, grief stuck beneath his heart like a knife, piercing skin and muscle. A wreckage of longing and resentment, packaged in the form of Cas' tired blue eyes, and the grim set of his mouth. _This is what you do best: you take and you leave, and you'll do it all over again._

“Dean,” Cas grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’ll be okay here. This is your chance to live a new life. It’s what Sam wanted for you.”

“Please,” Dean held onto Cas’ arms, feeling pathetic and small, still raw from Sam’s loss and refusing to be left alone. “Please stay with me, I can’t. I can’t do this.”

Cas leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss against Dean’s lips. It was short and sweet and not long enough. “I’ll come back to you.”

Dean closed his eyes to chase away the tears, and when he opened them again, Cas was gone, a single black feather resting in front of Dean’s feet.

**Author's Note:**

> [You can yell at me here](https://twitter.com/foldingcranes), I'm sad and unemployed but sometimes I Talk About Fic.


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